


Infra Red/Ultra Violet

by Samsara



Category: Mogeko | General, 廃れ夢 | Obsolete Dream, 灰色庭園 | Haiiro Teien | The Gray Garden
Genre: Angels, Character Study, Creation Myth, Demons, Devils, Dirty Jokes, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gods, Headcanon Backstory, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Alteration, Multi, Other, POV Third Person Omniscient, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:36:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsara/pseuds/Samsara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devils never start off as devils.<br/>Devils are never born.<br/>They are created.<br/>What creates them is never the same force.<br/>But it's always the same horror.<br/>A devil is never born. </p><p>At some point, they were all gods or angels who had been corrupted or changed against their will. Whether it be by nature or by another, it's never a pretty sight. For a devil like Satanick -- a man of crude behavior, flashy acts of violence and decadence -- it's hard to imagine just how he had been before he had become the ruler of the Pitch Black World.<br/>Hard to imagine for him, but clear as day for everyone who watched him fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infra Red/Ultra Violet

**Author's Note:**

> Right so, nearly a year of roleplaying Satanick has finally prompted me to write a fanfic for my backstory for him. While I love his character, I have a hard time believing he was always a complete terror. Mogeko has a habit of introducing characters with terrible behaviors and then revealing that their pasts are rather depressing (example: Sal having been a denizen of the blue sea who became corrupted). So I figured I would put my Satanick story in words and share it with everyone.
> 
> Things I will be posting right here:  
> This is almost entirely headcanon based on theories and studies of character interactions in Mogeko's artwork.  
> I ship Satanick and Fumus. Quite deeply. And though I know their likelihood for a relationship is nearly impossible, that is the primary ship of this fic.  
> Satanick's relationship with Lil will be written as supportive but ultimately dysfunctional. They get along but they're not what I would call happily married.  
> Justim and Vicers are being "sort of" shipped. I am writing them as "brothers" but it's a platonic sort of relationship.  
> Furthermore, regarding the genders of characters, I am writing Justim with "he" pronouns, but expressing in my writing that as God, Justim's willing to change to suit their mood. 
> 
> I think that's all I really have to say on the matter. This is going to be a multi-chapter fic with lots of speculative theories in it and I hope you enjoy it!

Dwelling on the past was never much of his style. He was such a glutton for living in the moment. He never let marriage slow him down, even if it was a marriage of convenience if anything. He chased whatever tail caught his eye, whatever sweet young thing happened to offer him a passing glance. This was who he was. He was not one to disappoint and if he were to find someone who did not object to being led to his private quarters for an evening of festivities with yours truly, well he was going to indulge.

  
Three nights a week were set aside for him to go out and chase tail, the other three nights belonged to Lil while she collected her own playthings. He often preferred to play the role of charmer, luring along his nightly lovers for his own gain, doing his part to make them all feel like royalty in his presence. He always made a point to check up on them a few days later, perhaps invite them to tea with the family if Glasses was willing to sit still and behave instead of...doing his own thing. He might be the devil, but he wasn't rude that's for sure. Lewd, yes. Rude? Absolutely not.

  
It was perhaps the reason he and his god got tolerated one another. Fumus was the stoic, serious sort more likely to place blame and scold anyone who misbehaved. And though Satanick was a man of questionable behaviors, he knew how to be courteous in the presence of a divine. He enjoyed Fumus's presence (seldom as it was), and he wasn't going to jeopardize this harmonious discontent between their kingdoms for the sake of a few jokes. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't attempt to play his cards right. Once or twice he appealed to him but rarely did things go the way he anticipated. At least. Not publicly. He would keep his lips zipped. For Fumus's sake. Even gods had reputations to protect.

  
While his unholiness dwelt upon the loveseat in the parlor, a hand draped across the back of the seat, violet painted nails delicately scraped upon the upholstery making sure not to snag any loose threads, lest they have to toss the furniture and have a new seat crafted as replacement. Dragging her fingers and palm over Satanick's shoulder she hummed softly, lyrically indicating that she would be heading out for the evening.

  
"Might bring home a string of them tonight, darling." She chimed as she gazed upon herself in one of the manor's many full length mirrors, admiring the way her mauve locks fell just so against her shoulders. "Don't wait up for me." She added, winking in the mirror as she caught Satanick's gaze following her. As she continued to preen herself, she gazed upwards, noting that Satanick had stopped watching her, nearly sulking in his seat. "You can't be acting like this right now, can you?" she asked, tearing herself away from her narcissism for a moment to stroll towards her lawfully (not necessarily loving) husband. "Are you moping?" She chuckled, holding her glossily manicured hand to her lips to conceal her humor.

  
With brows firmly straightened and gaze steady, the devil's wings stretched out from behind his back, curling around his torso to rest against the armrest on one side and to lay flat against the loveseats cushioned back on the other. His arms folded across his chest, finger idly flicking at the loose end of his bowtie. "I am not moping, I am simply deep in though." he explained, his chest puffing outwards in a slight huff, nearly dismissing his lawfully unfaithful wife from his view. "I have things on my mind, that does not necessarily mean I am moping."

  
"Suit yourself, Lord Satanick of Mope." she scoffed as she turned about on her heels which proceeded to click as she stepped from oriental rug to stone flooring. "I'm off, so do leave one of the bedrooms open for me tonight, hm?"

  
He raised a hand, snorting as she spoke to him. Condescending and snide as it was he could only respond in an equally sarcastic tone. "Hate you too, you dried out bitch. Hope you die." He called, hearing her gleeful cackle of a laugh in response, leaving the devil alone with his thoughts.

  
That's precisely where he wanted to be right at this moment. Gods knew that he had quite a lot on his mind that needed sorting out. Devils, particularly Satanick, were not the sort to dwell on their history. But Satanick and his dear, sweet Reficul were two devils that often found themselves focusing on days long since past. Periods of time from before the individual worlds and their barriers had been established. Periods that the spouses and lovers of most of the divine and unholy didn't even know existed.

* * *

 

  
A period known as the Prior Time in a realm called Elysia. When there was only bliss and simplicity and corruption and impurity had not yet been discovered. It was a period where Satanick had a different name altogether. A period where His Holiness and Supreme Light, Justim and his most righteous of swords, Vicers, bestowed the name of Nicklas upon him. A time where Satanick could have rightfully called himself a god. Long before everything went to shit.

  
He had been the first creation, an experiment if you will, where Justim and Vicers had gathered together and began to contemplate their very existence. They simply existed. Neither happily nor unhappily. Brothers, as they were in a realm where the only life that had graced the world was that of flowers, trees and the occasional, trial-run insect (some of Justim's design, others of Vicers). A scattered few preliminary animals roamed Elysia and its expansive fields of flowers and foliage. Gentle beings that would one day make way for modern mammals and birds, but they were few in number as they silently crept through the plant life of the forever stretching realm.

  
Justim and Vicers were not foes, nor were they friends. They were. That was it. Justim, for all intents and purposes could perhaps be viewed as God, while Vicers his devil companion. But yet, they were these ideals and not at the same time. They were what came first and what would depart last. They were creations with immense cosmic power and abilities. But they were just that. Creations.

  
Creations as they were, Justim and Vicers could only tolerate so much of one another. In this way they considered one another as brothers. A somewhat familial bond that could occasionally lead to aggression. Not that there was animosity between them, but rather, they sought something more. For they loved one another dearly, something seemed lacking in their existences. Company. Though many would say two is company, but three is a crowd, in the early days of Elysia, this concept had yet been discovered. And when the third happens to be a creation to be awakened to all the wonders of a new world, crowds were hardly something to be concerned with.

  
And that was when they found themselves with Nicklas. It was as if their desires for a companion had sprung to life around them, the universe accepting their request for a trio. A small child was delivered unto them. A being that they had yet to understand how to treat. A tiny, somewhat delicate mirror of both of them only an eighth their size. In old times and days there was no need to concern themselves with how to teach the simplest skills -- walking, speaking, thinking. It was natural for beings of their calibur. And so this small child, a mortal age of five human years stood before them, olive windswept hair and eyes brighter than their natural sky overhead. And from his skull and mess of jade locks rose two small twigs bearing the tiniest of leaves. This child smiled at them, dressed in a simple sleeping gown of linen and asked: "Which one of you is my father?"

  
Fatherhood was something neither god nor devil was prepared to address. An exchange of glances through Justim's closed but all seeing eyes and Vicers saffron soul seekers allowed them to silently deliberate the situation. Neither of them had anticipated a life to ask them if one of them was their father. After all the concept had never been created before. They knew themselves as nothing but life givers.  
"Neither of us." Justim spoke first, voice proud and echoing but with the cradling softness that was expected of the life giver. "But I would hope you shall see us both as guiding forces and support in your existence." A glance from Vicers and a quirk of the brow showed his features laced with a mild mask of frustration. It went un-addressed as Justim crouched down in the field of wildflowers, plush wings unfolding from his back and reaching toward the sapling-headed child in welcome.

  
"So, you're my father then!" the boy suddenly declared as his tiny hands reached out and grasped fistfuls of down feathers of Justim's wings in a playful and unintentionally rough manner. Justim winced, entire body seeming to ripple with the jolt of (newly discovered) pain that coursed through him from the child's action. But he could not bring himself to become harsh with the child. Instead he gently took the child's hands and pried them away from his wings, clasping them within his own. He was almost exasperated by the idea of being viewed as something paternal to this child as he hadn't even come to fully grasp the meaning of it yet, but as his heart warmed he felt it was just enough to know that this child would be as close to what he would call a son one day.

  
"If you wish that, then of course." Justim said, holding the tiny hands between his palms. The life flush within those hands, pulsing with blood and purity. "I will gladly take on this role for you." His gaze floated toward Vicers who had been watching down at the exchange almost entranced by the way the child spoke. "Then I believe the word for a father's brother is uncle -- and this is your uncle. Vicers." Justim released the child's hand and gestured toward him. "Do you have a name, child?"

  
Olive hair swished as he answered. Vicers, having been silent during the few words spoken parted his lips and opted to speak. The naturally silent (and somewhat anxious) devil crouched to the child as well, cape flaring out to reveal the forest and ebony shaded wings that were almost detached from his robes. "You shall be Nicklas. It is a name that means you will be a victor in all that you do. Whether you remain here with Justim and I or if you choose to explore beyond this realm, success and victory will come your way."

  
Somehow, hearing the idea that he might leave them caused Justim to stand upright, almost unexpectedly, a hand still held out for young Nicklas to grasp a hold of. A look upon his face directed at Vicers demanded he cease speaking of the idea of the child already departing. He had only just arrived. And he had only just become attached.

  
Though Justim was not even sure if he was male or female or something else, the word 'he' felt right at this moment. And father felt appropriate as well. And for Vicers it was much the same.  
For centuries both beings had had all the time in the universe to decide on things, but it was only now that they were discovering that now they had to solidify some things. There was a tiny life walking along side them, holding both God and Devil's hands, as they weaved through the flowers. And that life had questions about the universe that even if God and the Devil could not answer, a father could answer instead. There were some things in the universe that parents knew better than divines.

* * *

 

  
Satanick remained laying on the loveseat of his parlor, cape having been removed from its clasps and draped carefully along one of the lounge chairs, the removable wings laid out with them. Nearby sat one of the many interns as he liked to refer to them as, poised as he read over a small magazine advertising Ocho Chocolate -- as if it didn't need more popularity.

  
"You had fallen asleep sir." Came the voice of the intern as he seemingly did not look up from the pages of his magazine, the stray section of hair over his head twitching and in turn the mammalian like ears that protruded from the sides of his head did so as well. A quick glance up from the pages told Satanick that Envi was quite annoyed with him. "You've had guests and I've had to turn them all away as you could not be stirred from your catnap. Including the rabbit breeder you sent for." With the magazine closing he set it on an end table as the devil sat himself up.

  
"You know the drill, fool. If I am preoccupied you must always retrieve me if the rabbit breeder is here. He doesn't just breed rabbits. He does other breeding activities for me." The devil snapped at his underling, pointed teeth flashing momentarily. A shudder came from Envi as he waved at the devil, attempting to summon him into standing upright as he began to retrieve the cape from the lounge chair.

  
"I would like to request you never use the term breed to apply to anything but reproducing livestock, sir." Envi said as Satanick stood upright for the other male, allowing his cape to be fastened to his shoulders again.

  
"Just for that, I'm going to say every time I have lovers over I'm breeding with them!" he found himself laughing quite cheerfully, despite the previous snap. Yet another shudder stirred within Envi as he lifted the enchanted wings from the chair as well and held them to Satanick's back, allowing the magical aura they had been blessed with adhere themselves to the cape, allowing the devil his abilities of flight.

  
Yet his gestures in attaching his wings had been slow, sluggish compared to his normally speedy ability at readying the devil. As if he might have been examining something within the devil's added appendages. "Sir, if I might be so bold to ask a question regarding, well, you...?"

  
Satanick had begun to saunter off, allowing Envi the priveliege to watch how his cape and wings fluttered behind him with every stride. But the question that Envi was going to ask was something right up his ally. It was a question about him. To feed his ego. He wasn't the king of narcissism for nothing. Returning towards his servant, Satanick leaned forward, his lips pulled into the most deviant of grins as he drew a satin gloved finger beneath the young male's chin.

  
"You want to breed with me, don't you?" he asked with a chuckle, using the term that he knew Envi disliked so much. "You don't need to be so formal about it. I'm never formal. Unless I need to be. Of course, your formalities is what keeps you in a job isn't it? But I'll forgive it just this once if you wanted to be vulgar." The devil licked his lips, semi-violet tongue running over them, causing them to glisten somewhat as he chuckled. "Say you'd _love_ to let me _fuck_ the rigidity out of you, boy. ♪ Go on. You might even turn me on a little."

Envi pulled himself away, disgust not only just woven but permanently threaded on to his face. A groan slipped free from his lips, horrified that his boss would come on to him like this, but he really ought to have been used to it by now. He was working for the devil himself in the most horrific of demons realms. "Sir it has nothing to do with your sexual appetites, in fact I would be thrilled to never hear a word of them ever again." This was only cause for Satanick to chuckle quietly about how he now planned to make this more a part of their daily conversations. "It has to do with your wings."

And yet this actually took the devil by surprise. Of all things. One of the enchanted wings lifted and he examined it somewhat almost curious. He had several pairs of wings he had enchanted to match his many capes and cloaks that he kept in the manor. A brow quirked and his shoulders shrugged. "You may continue, but the answer may not be to your liking, boy."

Envi hated being addressed as "boy." He was centuries old and he didn't like being spoken to in such a way. But he put up with it because he knew that a job within the Satanick manor was lucrative and held a lot of status outside the castle walls. Furthermore, he couldn't be fired. After all. Being fired equated to death. "I wanted to know why you do not have any of your own."

It was not a question Satanick was a stranger to. Lil had asked him, as had Glasses and many of the others who had come to visit him before. Only a few people within the realm knew the full story, but he preferred to condense his answer to a simple sentence. "They fell off." he said with a shrug. "Simple as that."

Envi nodded. He didn't buy that the answer was entirely complete. In fact, he knew there was more to it. But he had this sneaking suspiscion that if he were to ask for anymore information, he might actually wind up in the devil's bedroom...and frankly, he was prepared to actually enjoy it. But he didn't want to sink that low. "Thank you sir, now if you will. One of your visitors has refused to leave without an audience with you."

  
The devil snorted and combed a hand through his hair, lingering at the base of one of his horns. He had to make himself look dashing before leaving his parlor for his waiting room where he would ultimately bring said guest to either his office or his bedroom. It rarely mattered which because his guests usually ended up in both rooms.

  
"And just who might it be that they were willing to wait that long? How long had I been resting?"

  
"Around four hours. He arrived around thirty minutes after you had fallen asleep." Envi commented as he lifted the umbrella shaped cane he had rested against his chair from before, and joined the devil in his stroll from the parlor to the hallway. "He said he was quite content waiting."

  
"Well, 'he' certainly rules out a number of people. Answer me. Who is it."

  
"God."

  
A scoff from the devil as he dragged his glove down his face, taking a moment to examine it for any oil or dirt that might have smudged on to his palm from the gesture. "That's not clear enough. Which one."

  
"Yours."

  
Another groan and Satanick stopped in his stride to look directly at his servant, his chest heaving into a sigh. He had to remain calm, after all, he did enjoy Envi's work and though he was a bit of a stick in the mud, he was excellent company. "Envi, you must recall. There are two gods that are relevant to me. There is the one upstairs and the one up upstairs. I need to know which."

  
The mammalian youth stared at him, his lips twisting a bit. He wasn't accustomed to Satanick's meeting schedules (this was miss Medouco's job usually) and he didn't quite understand precisely what Satanick meant. "Sir you're going to have to be more precise with me. I did not know that you had two gods that applied to you. Furthermore, I don't know how to differentiate between 'upstairs' and 'up upstairs'."

  
This was turning into a hopeless exchange and with the most charismatic of flutters of his cape he began his stroll again. "Fumus or Justim, Envi. Fumus? Or Justim?"

  
Envi, was somewhat thrown aback by the second name. He had not been informed that Satanick had ties with His Holiness Justim. He was a being that all demons of all worlds and their angelic counterparts were familiar with. Few had ever met him for he considered his realm to be all realms and he had much to overlook. He watched those who watched man, assuring that all was as it should be.

  
"Fumus, sir." Envi said, still a few feet back from Satanick as he continued his stride down the hallway toward the door to the waiting room where his god was certainly residing in wait. Whether he would be scolded for his misdeeds or if it would be a lively chat all depended on what lay beyond the door.

* * *

 

  
Nicklas had been a curious child and his days with Justim and Vicers in Elysia were rich and lively. He never quite took to calling only Justim his father but Vicers as well. They were both his father as far as the little divine was concerned. If he had questions he brought those questions to either of them. Why did the sky always remain violet here? It was because of the flowers. Why were the flowers only violet? They didn't have to be. And so buttercups and morning glories were created among many other types of flowers. Why were the only animals around small, why was there nothing big? So Vicers created horses and Justim created swans.

  
Enriching Nicklas had become as much a full time job as discovering the secrets of existence had been. Justim and Vicers were not limitless in their knowledge, they too understood very little about what surrounded them. And though they could manipulate and create the world into being something very different, they were often left clueless and exhausted with the overload of questions.

  
But though they remained weary, Nicklas had been what they had desired. Another person to spend time with. Added company. And he was never a bore to either God or Devil. He was curious and always exploring and in an almost unprecedented way, he was already joining his creators in making life happen around them. He could simply look at withered plants or saplings and demand they grow and they would do as he requested.

  
They knew not how long Nicklas had been with them, but one day they woke to find the boy only slightly older with emerald feathered wings protruding from his backs with the slightest of prongs at the end. He had somehow sought to be more like his family overnight, growing wings so that they might match. The feathers and shape for Justim and the color and prongs for Vicers. Though the child may not have recognized it back then, to God and Devil they had been accepted as family. He was taking after them both and somehow this worried them.

  
If Nicklas were taking after them both, what did it mean for them who existed in balance? A God and a Devil could not live harmoniously if a third party were to be involved. For that third party would eventually lean one way or the other. Though he exhibited traits of both realms, Nicklas was young and unfortunately for them all, he was upsetting their balance. What if he took on the traits of a god? Vicers would become weakened by the instability. But the other way around, that would certainly be terrible for Justim in the end.

  
The idea of their balance tipping was something that could not be accepted by either God or Devil. They enjoyed their harmony and wanted to remain in a balanced world like this. They had to keep Nicklas in his gray area. Not just then, but for eternity if they wished for it to only be the three of them. And such work was not an easy feat.

* * *

 

  
With the doors to the waiting room opened, Satanick was greeted with clouds of smoke that indicated all too clearly that Fumus was present in the room. It wasn't a choking smoke, but that of a haze that lingered around within bars and seedy coffee shops in back alleys. The kind of place that seemed to resonate with Fumus and his unpleasant expressions. Satanick didn't even need to greet the god who was busy smoking in one of the further chairs in the room.

  
"Ugh, take that goddamn cape off ya look pretentious as shit." came the biting remarks of the god as he exhaled, the smoke spiraling around him with the slightest sound of whispers. It was a cold remark but Satanick knew to take it with the slightest bit of affection as he unclipped the cape -- in the hallway he ear Envi scold him for discarding the clothing so carelessly -- but the wings traveled with him as he took a seat next to Fumus, smiling almost lovingly toward the man.

  
"To what can I owe the pleasure?" he asked, resting his chin in his hands, practically batting his eyelashes at the man. "You lose another ang--" He brought himself silent. He knew that the loss of one of Fumus's angels to the Pitch Black World was enough to send him packing instantly. "Attempt at quitting smoking?" A smooth recovery although he could tell by the sour squint from Fumus that he could tell what the devil had originally intended to say, but he would forgive it as he had noticed how the man had opted to avoid the comment.

  
"I heard your wife was out for the night." Fumus said pressing the butt of the cigarette into an ashtray which proceeded to scuttle away to do away with the remaining cotton filter. "Thought I would ask if you were interested in getting a drink with me. Finish catching up after last time."

  
The last time Fumus had stopped by they had been in the process of rekindling a centuries dead friendship from their youth (of course, Satanick was in denial of this) that had been quite rudely interrupted by a quarrel between Satanick and Glasses that led to the devil casually suggesting to the god to never have children. The response thus was Fumus revealing photographs of six angels whom he all referred to his children.

  
"Why are you so invested with rebuilding a relationship that was never really there, Fumus?" Satanick asked as he scooped up the ash tray as it made its way across the floor to retrieve the cigarette butt. For some reason it fascinated him. Fumus's cigarettes were made from something ethereal. No tobacco or cloves or anything illcit. Something magical. "We are merely god and devil counterparts. That's what we were designed to be. I was designed to be a devil, you were designed to be my god. We are oppositions and you're here trying to build a relationship with me. Not just a business relationship --" he pressed the butt back into the tray and before it could even scuttle off again, Satanick pressed his foot down on to it. "But a relationship." His lips had quirked into a grin, knowing full well the truth to Fumus' intentions, but he wanted to make an attempt at pushing it. Perhaps see where it could lead.

  
The god rolled his eyes, annoyed to find that Satanick was now twisting his heel on the very ash tray he was going to use again in about thirty seconds as he lit another cigarette. "Don't you dare start pulling that shit on me, Nick." he grumbled as he took a drag of the sweet (almost spicy) aroma from the cigarette. "I'm not going to fall for your moves. I never did before and I have no intention of fallin' for 'em now."

  
"Don't call me 'Nick'. Come now, Lil isn't home tonight. She encouraged me to seek company of my own --"

  
"No." came the harsh retort of the god as he stood up, the infra-red hues of the underside of his hair glowing to match the embers of his cigarette. "If you're not going to take this proposal seriously that I'm going to leave you to your hell. Alone." With the toe of his shoe, he kicked away Satanick's leg and bent down to retrieve the ash tray that he'd imprisoned, cupping it within his hand. "I've been coming down here once a week for the past eight hundred years to try and re-initiate something and you always just brush it off as my brand of flirting with you which frankly is a load'a crap." The smoke began to thicken within the room, drawing Satanick to lean back in his chair and drape a leg over another as he examined Fumus. He was not naturally the violent sort, but when the smoke began to grow heavy due to Fumus' mood, it meant that the storm within him was ready to crackle to life. He was annoyed, but not enraged. It would take much more. Obviously.

  
"What in Justim's name are you even trying to re-initiate?" he asked, nearly baffled at the idea that his very god would pull something this asinine on him. There had never been anything between them. Neither friendship nor acquaintanceship nor romance or hatred. It was simple neutrality and willingness to work together. Or so he told himself. In his mind, as far as he had always been concerned, this was Fumus trying to suggest they sleep together. Which, of course, he didn't mind. He was just so stuffy about just coming out and saying it.

  
"You know damn well." Fumus said with a scoff as he turned on his heel and began to make his way from the waiting room. He had pressed a hand to his face, rubbing at his temples and the bridge of his nose. Satanick, despite his seemingly endless bond with him, was a handful and without fail was trying on his patience. "That demon of yours, Maekami. The one that runs that bar? I'll be there if you want to meet me. We need to talk. A lot."

  
The smoke within the room grew thicker still, removing all the visibility making it as if the storm had filled the manor. Then, with only the sound of a few distant clicks of dress shoes on granite, Fumus was gone, leaving Satanick alone in his waiting room. In the doorway stood Envi, holding the now wrinkled cape, brows furrowed and annoyed with the devil for daring mess up his professional pressing.

  
"I suppose I shall have to fetch you another cape, won't I?"

  
And the devil's lips quirked into a smirk, the ultra-violet of his eyes flashing with the slightest of twinkles. "The one with the olive branches. That one. I think Fumus and I have quite a lot to discuss."

  
His relationship with Fumus was something he preferred to keep buried. A childhood friend turned antithesis. For his sake and for Fumus' he opted to pretend it was nothing, when truthfully even the most corrupt of devils experienced the same heartbreak of loss.

* * *

  
Nicklas had been lonely. Justim and Vicers had noticed this. This was something that both of them had realized in regards to themselves and Nicklas. He was only a small child, and they had discovered that children needed people the same age to truly be happy. While Justim and Vicers had one another as companions they had to find someone for the small sapling child to confide in. A friend.

  
They did not wish the universe to grant another child, for that would involve far too much teaching as it had with Nicklas. Instead, they would breathe life into something that had been here all along. Something that had existed before Nicklas, although they would have to wait for it to visit again as it would once every fortnight or so.

  
There would be a crackle in the sky and the violet would drift away to be replaced by grayish hues of blue and white before they merged together in near shades of black, drawing forth powerful darkness that drove fear into the hearts of the three entities of Elysia. Yet as they feared the crackles as the clouds crashed together and formed thunderclaps loud enough to shake the very essence of life itself, they sought out a very particular part of these storms. There would always be brilliant rays of light accompanied by a hissing whacking sound as the light came dropping down to the fields of Elysia.

  
And with each crack, heat. And with all the heat. Smoke. Wisps of it as small embers collected upon the wild flowers. Everything of these storms made sounds, most lacked voices, but it was the smoke that whispered, as if trying to speak to the entities of Elysia, reaching for them from a plane they could not yet reach.

  
So as the deluge came upon the fields, and as Nicklas was sent to remain covered up, God and Devil sought out the whispering smoke that came with the streaks of light and the crackling clouds. Yet efforts often remained in vain as no matter what they did, neither divine could quite capture the whispering smoke and seek out its name. Many times they ventured through the storms to seek out the voice, but each time they could not succeed. And so it seemed hopeless. They would simply have to hope the universe would bestow another child for Nicklas.

  
But perhaps it was because Nicklas had to wish for it himself that they had not been successful. After all, it had been during one of the more fierce storms the three had endured where Nicklas had wandered off. He did not know where to, especially since he was a curious child. But as the winds grew stronger and the storms rain swept horizontal Nicklas found he wasn't scared of the storm the same way that Justim and Vicers had been. He had found peace within these winds and these flashes of light. It was something that felt more than just natural to him, but it had been calming and friendly to him.

  
And so as he stood within the wildflowers where he had been discovered he called out to the storm: "My name is Nicklas! What is yours?" without any fear in his heart of the oncoming fray. He smiled and his wings spread out, the wind catching him and guiding him upwards to speak with the phenomena. The boy of warm flesh and olive hair and the saplings upon his head flew with the air of this storm, his lips bright with a smile as he aimed to befriend the sensation around him.

 

A strike of lightning came down on to the ground, and the winds settled down guiding Nicklas down to where the strike had come down amidst a field of morning glories. Smoke surrounded the entire bed where the boy stood and something whispered into his ear:

  
_"My name is Fumus. How do I become like you?"_

  
And as his first act of divinity, Nicklas clapped his hands together and the smoke around the morning glories began to collect together. "Like this!" he called out, his wings ruffling as he floated in place while the smoke became denser in a single, isolated location. In the distance, Justim and Vicers could be heard calling for the child as he reached a hand out toward the mass of smoke.

  
And from the smoke, another hand reached out and took Nicklas', allowing the boy to pull. Slowly at first, and then aggressively with whimpering that could only come from a child exerting all the strength he had to do something outside of his ability. He extended his second hand and from the smoke another hand grasped his as well. Tugging fiercely, finding it difficult himself, an arm wrapped around his waist -- Vicers having seen the event first had joined in to aid Nicklas in freeing the spirit within the mass of smoke. And then, Justim too assisted in the act. And as a family, the freed the youth within the smoke who tumbled to the ground, knocking Nicklas down with him.

  
With Nicklas flat on his back, another small boy was positioned on top of him. He was smouldering, little sparks of electricity coming off of his small form as smoke continued to ripple away from him like mist as the storm died down. Grumbling and rubbing at his face which had become covered in dirt from the fall, the young boy looked up at Justim and Vicers with eyes the very color of the storm that had passed by. He appeared entranced a moment before scoffing and getting off of Nicklas, standing up and dusting himself off with a grunt before helping the winged child to his feet.

  
Justim and Vicers exchanged glances as Nicklas cheerfully grasped the smoke child's hand, practically bouncing in his place. Nicklas was only a child, and the feat he had performed was impressive. Their divine companion was truly something to behold.

  
The boy swung Fumus' hand happily, ignoring the slightly taller boys grumpy demeanor and obvious refusal to thank Nicklas for giving him form.

  
"I made a friend today!" he announced cheerfully. "His name's Fumus!"

* * *

 

  
Satanick found himself within his dressing room, looking at the cape with the olive branches embroidered along the base. The wings for this one were almost draconian, and while the devil was not much of a fan of them, he was fond of how they matched the rest of his attire. Admiring himself in the same mirror that Lil often regarded herself in, Satanick gazed toward Envi who still seemed to be perplexed to be aiding the man during this evening.

  
"Sir, I must I admit that I was eavesdropping," Envi admitted quietly as he held the accessories for Satanick's outfit within his hands. "But what sort of relationship do you have with Lord Fumus?" he asked as he began fastening Satanick's tie for the evening. Not a bow tie but a trinity knot in order to match the Celtic knot designs near the base of the lining of the mans cape.

  
Shoulders shrugged as he inclined his chin to give Envi an easier time dressing him. "You do understand that I am about to confide in you, correct?" A nod. "And you do understand that I will instantly have you executed in the public square if I find the information I am about to tell you has spread beyond your lips, yes?" Another nod. "And you are aware that it will be truly humiliated and I will seek out revenge upon your family as well --"

  
"Please seek revenge on my family even with my lips shut, sir."

  
"Oh, splendid!" Satanick clasped his hands together and chuckled. He would not be wearing his usual white gloves with this ensemble. These ones were green with gold stitching and little leaves embroidered at the wrist. As Envi began to slide these on his hands the devil began to speak. "Envi, you see. Fumus and I have a complicated relationship."

  
"Is he a jilted ex-lover?" Envi had the gall to ask, causing Satanick to nearly sputter as he covered his mouth with his bare hand. It was the reaction both of shock and humor. And frankly, it was a good guess.

"I wouldn't necessarily say ex." he found himself confessing. "Jilted, yes. Lover, sort of? Not in the same sense that my wife has lovers but --"

Envi gazed up at him, brow quirking as he gazed up, fortunate that his horns did not snag on the curtain behind him. "Platonic lovers?" he asked as he slid the other glove on to the mans hand.

  
"I wouldn't even call it platonic." the devil added as his assistant had finished dressing him, save for the brooch to go beneath the knot of his tie. He searched for words a moment, sighing internally so not to reveal the confusion on his part to his servant. "We have a relationship. I cannot for the life of me figure out necessarily what to call it. But it does have its complexities. It is driven by fate, and not simply due to our roles in the universe. But something more... But I cannot truly say what it is."

  
Most of his recollection of Fumus as a child had been buried, but that didn't necessarily mean any of it was a poor memory. He did it for the sake of them both. He knew of only one god and one devil that functioned well together in a harmonious society -- save for his father -- and when push came to shove he and Fumus would never be able to live harmoniously.

  
He had given Fumus life, which for most devils...it's the other way around.

  
But for the life of him, he couldn't recall why he had been so different. Why had he, the Devil of the Pitch Black World, given life to his god.

  
There was something in his past he couldn't quite recall.

  
All he knew was this devil hadn't always been this way. If only he could figure it out.


End file.
